The Light Behind Your Eyes
by heatherlight
Summary: On their sixth year of Hogwarts, Harry, Ron and Hermione are called to the Headmaster's Office. With a preposterous idea regarding time traveling and the company of the Ravensdale sisters, the Golden Trio travels back in time to 1944 to stop Tom Riddle from becoming Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle/OC
1. The Most Popular Hufflepuff

**The Most Popular Hufflepuff**

**Sunday, 2nd of September, 1997**

_HeadMaster's Office, Hogwarts_

10:28 am

At times like this, it was when Dumbledore began to think desperately for a way out. With a sigh, he let his chin rest over his entwined, long fingers. The black scorching mark on his hand ached, but it was nothing compared to what the people in Europe would suffer would he give up on his cause.

And that was the reason of the knock on his door.

Raising his worn out pale blue eyes from the moving painting of Phineas Nigellus Black, the old man gazed at the mahogany double doors, waiting for the now familiar trio which had been walking through his school's hallways for six years. Time did go rather fast on him.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Dumbledore," the painting scowled with a frown.

"I hope so too, Phineas," he sighed in a whisper. Then, with a louder voice, he called out. "Come on in."

Three pairs of feet walked inside the vast room, the first one being a rather lean boy with glasses supported by transparent tape—not so transparent anymore, though. His messy hair on the top of his head made him seem slightly clueless as to everything around him, but his eyes spoke sixteen years of knowledge through experience. And not only his eyes, for the bags underneath them contrasted greatly against the sick paleness of his skin. Oh, yes. Harry Potter had been through a lot in his life. Hopefully, it would all end soon.

"Good morning, professor," he greeted politely in a typical British accent.

Second teenager walking in, Ron Weasley was much taller than Harry Potter, but also much slimmer and ungainly than the first. His red hair was now cut shorter than the previous school year, and he had gained a couple of inches through the summer. A worried look was edged on his features, though it was soon forgotten when his feet tripped over themselves and his chest hit against his friend's back.

"Ronald Weasley!" a contralto to soprano voice shrieked behind the two Brits. "Watch your feet! This is a serious matter!"

The ginger adolescent turned a deep crimson colour as the bushy haired girl scolded him. Hermione Granger was the girl who had probably grown more of the three of them. Her hair, still the same as ever, frizzled around her petite head and shoulders. The body of near a woman took place, and her features sharpened and grew. Her eyes were larger, her eyebrows more defined and her school uniform adjusted to the curves. It was blatantly obvious that Hermione was now a woman. But her mentality, formalities and other things such as those stayed the same, if not more mature.

"I'm so sorry, professor," the tallest boy apologized.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore nodded. "You three, please, sit down."

The Golden Trio obeyed, moving to the three chairs facing the writing desk of the famous wizard and headmaster. They all sat down in silence, most of the present members in the room wondering why exactly they were there. Harry Potter was one of them. He asked himself what in the world would Dumbledore probably want when it was just a day in the sixth school year.

"For Merlin's sake, Dumbledore, say it already!" Phineas exalted from the old painting. "If they've been able to keep up with everything so far, I think they can let this new information sink in!"

"New information?" the raven haired boy tore his emerald eyes form the floor and looked towards the headmaster. "Is it regarding the war?"

War.

Such a short word.

But it did chill Albus Dumbledore to the bone. He realised then, the gravity of the situation. It was worse than he thought. Standing there, with their expecting eyes and their young bodies, three children were looking up to him. And they were just about to receive the craziest idea he had come up with since he was their age.

"My dear children," he began. "I do not know how to say this softly, so I'll state it clearly and simply."

Taking a deep breath, everyone prepared to hear the words of the headmaster.

"We are losing the war."

The blow didn't hit as hard as the students thought. The fact wasn't new, and it definitely didn't surprise them at all hearing them from the very same mouth that had given everyone hope. It did hit Hermione hard, but not Harry nor Ron. Not after those endless nights at the Burrow, discussing the war in the summer. Not after the death of Sirius. Not after the battle in the Ministry.

Not after the night terrors.

"Sir," Harry spoke first after a while of silence, which even Phineas kept. "We do know we are not in shape to fight anymore, but why are you telling _us_ this?"

"Yeah, isn't the Order of the Phoenix the one who should be hearing that?" Ron commented suddenly and, rather, rudely.

"Ronald!" Hermione chastised.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"You are right, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore nodded. "I _should_ be telling the Order of the Phoenix about this. But I am afraid that this was merely an introduction of what I am about to say."

"Oh," Hermione let out.

"Yes," the blue eyed wizard chuckled. "_Oh_ indeed, Ms. Granger."

"What's going on, professor?" Harry's brows furrowed.

"A lot had been going on, Harry," azure orbs turned into a sad glow, void of the twinkle which used to glisten in them. "When the summer began, Voldemort began to travel throughout Europe and has rapidly increased the number that resides in his army. I'm afraid that, even if we do win the war, the damage caused to us all will be irretrievable."

"Have we lost, then?" the Boy Who Lived was incredulous to the small speech given. "Are we going to give up? Is that what you're saying?"

"Harry…" Hermione warned, darting her eyes between her friend and her superior.

"No, Harry, dear," the powerful man stood and walked over to place a hand over the boy's shoulder, giving a sad look. "_What I'm saying…_ is that we have finally come to desperate means."

"Desperate…" Harry Potter frowned with worry. "… means?"

* * *

_Public Library, Hogwarts_

11:51 am

"Adelaide!" a hushed call travelled through the library, reaching the ears of the sixth and seven year girls. The tallest one—also the oldest one—raised her head the furthest, snapping her neck to see one of her friends waving at her. She wiggled her fingers back at her and giggled, making the other girl, a more reserved figure, scowl in disagreement.

"I told you I'd help you write a schedule for the studying times for your NEWTs," the brunette hastily snapped, making Adelaide turn back to her with surprise at her sudden burst. "Either you pay attention to what I'm saying and _stop getting distracted_, or I swear I'll ignore you every sodding time you ask for help."

There was an edge on her tone, one that quivered. And that quiver cost the brunette her credibility. Her older sister grinned widely and leaned to her, her flawless, slightly freckled face closer than the sixth year would rather have.

"You won't do anything," she stated, and her sister blanched at the tone she gave her. The grin had turned into a smirk and her nails were now digging slightly into the skin on the side of her hand, the polish drawing a small wound. "Because we both know that you're all bark and no bite. You don't even bark. I don't know what got into you."

Raising her body into an erect position, the blonde smiled freely now. But her sister knew better. It was fake. All about her was fake.

If only people could see that…

"Finish up the schedule, I'll come pick it up later," she wiggled her fingers and turned around, exiting the section where she had been before.

She found her friend quickly, but just as she opened her mouth a familiar voice spoke before her, the Hufflepuff hiding her irritation with a smiley scoff.

"Oh, Clevin, what do you need?" Adelaide asked politely to the seventh year Head Boy, Gryffindor and also a fellow of hers.

"Dumbledore told me to give you this," he put the parchment on her hand, a purple lace holding it together. "He was with the Golden Trio, though, so I don't know if he wants for later…"

"Oh," she frowned, looking at the parchment he had given her. "Thank you, I'll read it right now."

"Alright, see you," he waved, stalking off the library.

"What does it say?" her friend moved to read over her shoulder, which moved so that it hit her jaw softly.

"Don't be curious," Adelaide beamed widely at her. "It'll only get you in trouble."

She scoffed, but walked back to the other prefects at the table which they were sharing. Opening the parchment gingerly, the Hufflepuff Head Girl read everything on it, her eyebrows raising to her hairline when she finished it. Tucking it into her cloak, she briskly took her bag and began to run out of the library to the Headmaster's Office.

Reaching the Headmaster Tower, she breathlessly chanted out the ridiculously easy password and climbed the steps, almost barging inside the room when she placed her hands on the heavy doors, pushing them. They were lighter than she thought they would be, but when she was in she almost froze.

The Golden Trio was looking at her.

And more importantly, _Harry Potter_ was looking at her.

"Adelaide _Ravensdale_?" Hermione Grange exclaimed in disgust. "_Ravensdale_?"

"Hello to you too, Granger," the blonde crossed her arms and sassily moved her head. "I see you haven't changed at all. Still letting everyone use you and walk over you?"

The brunette's eyes narrowed and she looked about to retort something with a sharp tongue when the Headmaster stood, making himself present since she had entered the room.

"Ms. Ravensdale," he greeted. "I hope I haven't disturbed your Sunday before the school year."

"Not at all, professor," she replied politely, sending him a smile. "Although the note was rather cryptic, why exactly am I here?"

"I am here because of you position as Head Girl in this school," he stood now in front of her. However, she was still visible to the three Gryffindors still sitting.

"M-My position?" she stuttered.

She knew it. She'd been busted. Ever since she got to be prefect on her fifth year at Hogwarts—all thanks to her sister's aid—she knew Dumbledore had set his eyes on her. Now he was about to give her the scolding of the year and only because she had been incredibly high as to her grades. Most of the things were done by her sister, which made sweat break into the back of her neck. It was cold and it made her shiver.

Oh, _bloody hell_, she really had been busted.

"Yes," he nodded. "Don't worry, dear, I'm not about to remove you from your place."

Adelaide visibly relaxed, something that made Hermione scoff from her place. She had had a quarrel with her back in fourth year—they had worn the same dress, only Adelaide's had been red and Hermione's had been periwinkle—and since then, they had been mortal enemies. That, and the fact that Hermione Granger could _not_ stand her gloating when nobody was looking. Adelaide Ravensdale wasn't a good girl. And most people in Hogwarts were _not_ aware of that fact.

Including Dumbledore or so it seemed.

"Then why am I here?" she asked again.

"You're here because, with your knowledge regarding the wizarding world, and with Ms. Granger's knowledge over the muggle world, you could help save Europe from the hands of the darkest of the lords."

If the Hufflepuff had been tense before there was no word to describe her now. The mere sound of the syllables which composed 'Dark Lord' freezed her to the ground, fear exploding inside her mind. _No_, she thought,_ no no no no __**NO**_.

"Sir," she stuttered. "I c-can't defeat the Dark Lord."

"No, I'm not telling you to," he rubbed her shoulder affectionately. "What I'm asking you to do is a much more complicated thing, although it won't be as dangerous."

_I hate complicated things_, she spat in her mind. She was thinking of how much would she rather have her sister have all the credit to everything she did over the years. Now she regretted taking the credit for all her hard work. _Bloody hell, just take m sister already, I have no idea about the wizarding world_.

"What is it?" she rasped.

Dumbledore watched her from behind his glasses, blue eyes connecting with her for a second before the twinkle always present returned to them.

"These students," he looked briefly to the Golden Trio. "will travel back to 1944 and stop Tom Riddle Jr. from becoming the Dark Lord. From what I gathered in your free topic projects and other syllabus, you have a vast knowledge towards the 40s and 50s."

"60s," Adelaide corrected with a strained voice, though it wasn't her who knew all of that. It was her sister. She knew because The Beatles were her favourite band, but she also had favouritism over the 80s and 70s. Basically any old music she could find which was either muggle or wizardry. Adelaide never understood why.

"Ah, I see," he nodded.

"If I do go back…" Hell, she was even contemplating this. "… how will I get back to 1997?"

"That's the thing, Ravensdale," Granger glared at her. "You _won't_."

"I _won't_?" the blonde snapped at Dumbledore, her face paling at the statement.

"You won't," he nodded sadly.

"But neither will we," Potter answered, and her knees shook as the Boy Who Lived stood. He screamed power, and everyone knew it. Adelaide knew it. Oh, and she _loved_ it. "So choose, Ravensdale. Either stay and live away your worries while the war consumes Europe. Or come with us and save the wizarding world."

The aspect of staying was rather attractive.

And let's not forget that she wasn't what Dumbledore thought she was.

So as a cunning, self-proclaimed, queen bee of the fake smiles, she grew a big one on her lips and crossed her arms defiantly.

"I won't go unless my sister comes with me," she stated, drop dead serious.

Hermione Granger's jaw dropped to the floor, her eyes widening when she heard the words coming out from the glossed lips of one of the worst girls she had even been given the displeasure to meet.

"_What_?" she shrieked.

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. "She is your only family, after all."

"Thank you, sir," she sighed in false relief, placing a hand over her heart. "This really does help me get over everything that has happened."

"You're welcome, my dear child," he placed a hand over her head and she smiled again. "I will fill you in with everything you need to know throughout next week and on October you all will be on your way. Your sister will also have to come, if she agrees."

"Oh, she will," she nodded, shooting her gaze briefly to the Boy Who Lived before she waved and walked out of the office. "Goodbye! See you all later!"

Ron waved, but Hermione quickly slapped his hand, earning herself a hard glare. With a challenging look on her eyes, she turned to her headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore, you can't possibly think that Adelaide Ravensdale, the 'most popular hufflepuff in Hogwarts'," she spat out the title. "will help us gain the trust and friendship of a future Dark Lord."

"No, Ms. Granger, I certainly don't," he responded, to which she blinked rapidly in surprise.

"I'm afraid I don't get it, sir," she frowned.

"Don't you get it, silly girl?" Phineas exploded from his portrait, and they all turned to him as he threw his hands up. "She hasn't done a _bloody_ thing since her sister came into Hogwarts! It's the sister we want, not the Head Girl! Only we can't ask the sister right away because we'd have to answer a lot of questions from the student body, so we're asking the empty headed blonde! It was a one hundred percent chance that she'd want to go with her sister to the past!"

"Is that true, sir?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, Harry, it is," he sighed. "Isolde Ravensdale is the girl you need, not Adelaide."

"Why do we need her?" Ron was the next one to talk, hoping that he hadn't been rude enough to make the bushy haired girl hit him or scold him.

Turning around to face his students, Dumbledore sat on his writing desk and smiled at them all, grabbing a parchment from near his hip. Passing it to them, Hermione took it and began to read.

"This is an essay from 1942," she stated, reading the corner of the parchment. "About someone's thoughts of the war against Grindewald."

"Yes, it is," Dumbledore nodded and next passed her a much newer, much clearer parchment."

"This is from two years go," Ron read the date. "And it's about the war against Voldemort back with the original Order of the Phoenix."

"They're almost the same," Hermione whispered, looking from one to another. "Same vocabulary, similar handwriting, perfect grammar and almost same length."

"You, children," the old man sighed with tiredness draining his voice. "are looking at the reason why I need Isolde Ravensdale to go with you."


	2. The Most Unpopular Ravenclaw

**The Most Unpopular Ravenclaw**

**2nd of September, 1997**

_Public Library, Hogwarts_

7:36 am

Isolde Ravensdale was the epitome of Wallflower. She wasn't necessarily ugly, neither did she have a displeasing personality. She just didn't call in for attention neither did she bring it to herself when walking through the hallways. Rather plain hair, not tall neither short figure, she was pretty much what you would call a Plain Jane. Chestnut coloured hair to a few inches below her shoulders, hazel eyes which didn't stick out thanks to her thick glasses and a figure that wasn't very curvy but neither completely stick-like. Isolde was average.

So when the infamous Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, walking encyclopaedia and possibly next year's Head Girl, walked up to her table and sat down in front of her, Isolde was surprised—which was putting it mildly.

The fuzzy haired girl smiled at her and she blushed, quickly directing her eyes back to the parchment in front of her. With a now trembling hand, she continued writing her sister's schedule, which was almost done. She had missed lunch, but as usual she'd go later to the kitchens, one of her many refuges.

"Hello," Hermione Granger spoke, and Isolde lifted her eyes to her, swallowing down through her dry throat.

Isolde really didn't know what had possessed the popular girl to sit in front of her. Six years had gone by and she had never glanced at her more than once. Why the sudden interest now? Did she want something from her? It was highly unlikely, seeing as the only reason she'd want to talk to her would be so that Isolde could write her an essay.

And Hermione Granger definitely didn't need an essay on the 2nd of September.

"Hi," the hazel eyed girl swallowed, hunching over so that a curtain of wavy and slightly dirty hair covered her blush.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"I-Isolde," the Ravenclaw stuttered out.

"Ravensdale?" Hermione Granger finished with a question.

Hazel eyes shot up and narrowed slightly, watching the Gryffindor crossing her arms in a defensive pose. Scanning her actions and eyes, Isolde finally guessed that she wasn't here to have a friendly little chat. It probably had to do with her sister. Her stupid, conceited, Head Girl sister.

"Yes, Ravensdale," Isolde sighed, putting the parchment and ink away to rub her temples. "What did she do?"

"Who?" Granger frowned.

"My sister, who else?" she spat.

"Oh," the prefect nodded in understatement.

Hermione could see it in her eyes; that girl had been taking care of her big sister for a long time in Hogwarts. From her tensed shoulders to the tired matter under her eyes. It was all too clear to her now. Adelaide Ravensdale really was no genius. She hadn't really believed Dumbledore at first when he said that the Hufflepuff's papers had been exactly like the most brilliant student that Hogwarts had ever had. But now, in front of the busy Ravenclaw rubbing her temples in a tired manner, she realised that Adelaide Ravensdale's sister would be very useful in their mission to the past.

But the blonde would be a very difficult person to handle.

"Well?" Granger looked up to see her eyebrows shooting up. "What has she done?"

"Nothing," she responded plainly. "Absolutely nothing."

"Then why are you sitting here?" she frowned.

"Can't I?" Granger shot back.

Isolde Ravensdale blinked for a moment before she digested that Hermione Granger genuinely wanted to talk to her. Maybe it was about the rejection of her Prefect badge last year? Did she feel offended about that? Outraged? It wouldn't make sense as to why she was being so polite. Did she want something? Did she want to crush her sister? It wouldn't be the first person to try to do so…

"Oh, alright," Isolde finally nodded, turning back to her papers. "Feel free to sit here."

And just like that, both girls went back to doing their own work.

* * *

_Public Library, Hogwarts_

8:45 pm

Isolde liked Hermione Granger.

It was as simple as that.

She had been quiet throughout the time spent by her, the only sound being quill against parchment. She worked fast, hard, well and had a concentration face which was nice to see. Without really knowing so, the Ravenclaw girl's face had eased into one of peace. Though it'd take more than a quiet person to make her smile.

"Ms. Ravensdale? Ms. Granger?" Madam Pince lifted her frame from her desk and walked over to the two girls. "The library will be close in fifteen minutes. I suggest you two begin to take care of the mess you've created in this table."

Walking off, she sat down again and continued sorting out her papers. While Granger huffed and collected her books and parchments, Isolde finished off the schedule. She sighed with a quick little smile and pulled everything into her bag, standing up along with her new companion.

"Let's go?" Hermione offered.

Isolde nodded and they walked out, the shorter brunette with frizzy hair trying to make small talk.

"So you're in Ravenclaw, uh?" she offered with a smile.

"Yes," was the simple answer she gave her.

"I would have gone into Ravenclaw had I not been a Gryffindor," Hermione commented.

"Which is kind of a contradiction, don't you think?" Isolde chuckled, and Granger frowned.

"How is it a contradiction?" she asked.

"Well, Gryffindor is supposed to be the house of the valiant, the honest and the—please, don't be offended—stupid enough to think they're being brave. There's a fine line between stupidity and bravery and a lot of Gryffindors have crossed it. Ravenclaw's, though, they're smarter than that, but much more antisocial. I guess they put you in Gryffindor because you actually know how to make conversation without getting on someone's bad side."

Echoing steps filled the empty hallways and Hermione Granger actually contemplated what she had said. It wasn't a biased opinion. In fact, it was very objective. Not only had she praised Ravenclaw, which was usual in the residents of the house, but she had also praised Gryffindor. Most Ravenclaw's had a premade choice of what they thought about the other members of the other houses. Slytherin's were spoiled brats, Gryffindor's were stupid gits and Hufflepuff's were absolutely useless. She, however, had admitted openly how Ravenclaw's didn't like to spend time with people as much as the other houses did, and it gained a lot of points on her side.

Did Lord Voldemort think like that when he was their age?

"This is your stop."

Said girl pulled Hermione out of her daydream, stopping right before they entered the Great Hall. She frowned and turned to her fully, wondering why exactly she had said so.

"Aren't you coming?" she questioned.

"No," the brunette shook her head.

"Oh."

The failed articulation of a word which actually made sense planted a seed inside Hermione Granger's mind. Why exactly was she so useless in front of this girl? She had the same age, almost the same height, a normal background and Dumbledore seemed to trust her with the fate of the entire continent. Why then was Hermione so uneasy with her around?

Was it the eyes? How they seemed to be calculating everything about her when she sat down in front of her before? Was it maybe the sharp look in them? Or was it because she was taller? The fact that the younger Ravensdale turned around without biding farewell made Hermione realise that it wasn't any of the things she had listed before. It was her personality. It was introverted, unbiased, impersonal and to be honest a little cold.

It made her wonder if she really had the same personality as Lord Voldemort when he was seventeen.


	3. Revelations and Expectations

**Expectations and Revelations**

**2nd of September, 1997**

_Ravenclaw Common Room, Hogwarts_

11:29 pm

"I don't believe you," Isolde claimed, shaking her head at her sister who, of course, had abused of her power to get inside the Ravenclaw common room without having to answer the eagle.

"Oh, come on, Isolde!" Adelaide threw her hands up. "I'm telling you the truth! I can even bring you Dumbledore if you want!"

"You are _not_ going on a secret mission to 1944 to destroy You-Know-Who, Adelaide," the brunette narrowed her eyes, darting them from her book to her big sister. "I honestly don't believe you."

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" the Hufflepuff raised her voice an octave higher than it already was, making the younger girl cringe.

She was done with her. She didn't want to hear another pity story from her sister. She just wanted to cause drama or worse, get her into an embarrassing situation. She couldn't possibly be serious to ask her to go to the past under Dumbledore's watch. They weren't losing the way. They _couldn't_ be. She hadn't seen more than the usual deaths on The Prophet. There was nothing that could signal that they were _losing_.

But then again, she didn't really believe what The Prophet said.

Isolde began to think, looking at her sister. The blonde was now infuriated, which wasn't a good sign. She began to realise just how dangerous the situation was, her fingers drumming on the languid cover of her book. The worn out copy of _Les __Miserables_ was beyond trash, but she refused to give it away. It was her favourite book and she didn't want to throw it to the fire.

And her sister knew so.

"Alright," Isolde sighed, closing her book. "I believe you."

"You should have from the beginning," was her response.

"I'm sorry about that," Isolde ran a hand through her hair and left her fingers there for a moment before she removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "So you're saying you need me to come with you in this crazy quest."

"Yes," Adelaide scoffed, her hip moving to rest against a piece of furniture. "Otherwise I'll fail them when we go back."

"Why not simply tell them that you don't want to go?" her little sister suggested with an obvious look of reproach.

"You are awfully sassy lately, you know that?" the blonde turned her eyes into slits and enclosed her sister, who began to turn from reproachful to actually afraid. "Well, Miss Know-It-All, I'll tell you why."

Snatching the over used book from her hands, she raised it high into the air with her wand so that Isolde couldn't reach it, hazel eyes widening with panic.

"No! My book!" she stood up and jumped to get it. "Give it back!"

"If I tell them that it was you the whole time, I wouldn't be Head Girl anymore," she ignored her pleas and simply stood on her tiptoes, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as tears picked in the eyes of the younger girl. "And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Give me back my book, Adelaide!" Isolde pleaded with a whimper.

"Also, it would look very bad if I went from Head Girl and top student to a mere… _peasant_. Get what I mean? Harry Potter wouldn't even look my way!" She put a hand on Isolde's arm and dug her polished nails into them for the second time that day. With the movement of her body in a desperate way to get her precious book back, it drew blood, but little did the Ravenclaw care. "Would you like that?"

"No! Of course not!" Isolde cried. She loved that book very much. It had been the first real book she had read. It was her whole life in those pages. "Adelaide, please, just give me my book back!"

"Not unless you promise me you'll go to the past with me," she challenged.

"You're not going to the past, Adelaide, you can't go!"

"Dumbledore asked me to!"

"That's a lie! I don't want more of your lies! I want my book!"

"It's not a sodding lie, Isolde!"

"How can I know that!?"

"Because of the private lessons!"

Isolde stopped struggling and frowned at her sister, wondering what the hell was she talking about. Catching the confused look on her face, Adelaide rolled her eyes and threw the book at her sibling's stomach—hard.

"Here's your fucking book," she scoffed.

"_Ooof_," Isolde protested at the strength in which it was thrown.

"Now, will you collaborate?" Adelaide sighed, as if exhausted.

"What do you want me to do?" Isolde sighed.

"Well," she touched the tips of her long blond hair and twirled it around her wand, creating curves on it simultaneously. "First of all, what I'm saying it's _true_, and if you can't believe it then fine, don't, but tomorrow we need to attend to Dumbledore's classes for whatever reason. Maybe you can duplicate me so that I can skip those."

Sitting on the sofa, Adelaide spoke, not even watching her sister as she rose and sat on the armcouch, wiping away her silent tears. She was accustomed to rough treatment from her sister, but this time she had gone too far with the book. It was as if a boundary had been stepped over in Isolde's list, which meant that she couldn't do anything reckless anymore. She had tried to start talking for herself instead of letting her sister step over her, but now she realised that it had been stupid. She would always be walked upon by Adelaide, and the sooner she got over so, the better.

"Alright," she nodded at her sister.

"Second of all, if we go back I'll need you to answer all questions they make me and all. Find a way to communicate with me during the meetings. Like that lyrumanancy or whatever…"

"Legilimancy," the sixth year corrected, sniffing away her tears and finishing up with the wall around her heart. "Legilimancy is used to read someone's thoughts, but you'd have to learn it in order to use it on me."

"Is it hard?"

"Very."

"Urgh, what a pest," she groaned, throwing her head back, hazel eyes set on the ceiling. "Whatever, you'll find a way to do it."

"Sure," Isolde sighed.

"Alright, and third of all, which is the most important," Adelaide cleared her throat and set her eyes on her sister's, all trace of seriousness gone the minute a mischievous smile appeared on her face. "I need you to set me up with Harry Potter."

"Potter likes Cho Chang," Isolde commented boredly.

"Cho Chang was _so_ last year…" Adelaide rolled her eyes. "Besides, I'm a seventh year, more mature and grown. I bet he likes them that way."

"Why do you want to date him, again?" she removed her glasses once more and began to clean them, trying to keep herself busy. She was too tired for this. All she wanted was crawl in bed and read again her book before he sister could break it. Maybe she'd get a new copy in the summer.

"Uh, hello?" the hazel eyed blonde waved her arm in front of her face. "He's Harry Potter? Rings a bell?"

"So?" Isolde shrugged, frowning. "What's up with him being Harry Potter? He saved the world when he was a baby, big deal, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, what does it matter if he saved us back then?"

"Be_cause_, Isolde," the tone which she used made Isolde roll her eyes discreetly. She absolutely _hated it_ when Adelaide did those kind of speeches. It came with a lot of superficial thoughts that she disagreed with. Especially about the fame issue. It was just wrong. "He's famous _and_ he's cute. I'm lucky he's a year older, otherwise he wouldn't even attempt to look at me."

"I understand," Isolde nodded, fixing her glasses. "But I'm no matchmaker, my dear _sister_. I have no idea about relationships except the drama they cause and the trouble it makes."

"Well then, study some!" Adelaide snorted. "Isn't that the only thing that you're good at?"

The brunette winced at her words. Sure, it was true, but it still offended her. As she ran her finger through the corner of the thick book, she pondered the thought of trying to set up her sister with The Boy Who Lived, dismissing it as soon as it came. It was simply disgusting. She didn't fit at all. From what she had seen and observed of the celebrity, she could make out that he was a humble boy with good intentions and couldn't be bothered with relationships if they were going to be part of the past.

_If_ they were actually going to the past.

"What are the private lessons?"

Now that was a matter of importance. If Adelaide was really telling the truth, then she would be in for the biggest adventure in her life. 1944 was a time of hardship for not only the women, but also the world. Being able to see the wizarding world in times of the World War II would be absolutely fascinating. Not to mention that old traditions at Hogwarts would still be present as they had faded today. A sentiment of giddiness began to form inside her stomach and she drew her knees to her chest, fighting the urge to squeal like a pubescent girly girl.

"We need to learn something before it's too late, or something like that," Adelaide shrugged, like she didn't care about the most important thing. "Hey, do you think they'll have the Tri-Wizard Tournament back in the past?"

"Probably," Isolde nodded. "But you'd be more interested in Founders Day."

"Founders Day?" Adelaide was excited already, moving to sit in front of her sister with a wide smile. "Is it like a ball or something?"

"Yes, like a ball," Isolde turned to her entirely and placed her book in her lap to have freedom in her hands. "That day you don't have the normal classes. Most of them apply to the anniversary of the foundation of Hogwarts. They have four classes; one dedicated to each of the Four Founding Members, and then the rest of the day is free to do whatever is in schedule. Then, at night, a big ball is held with music from the founding times."

"Oh my God," the blonde sighed and giggled at the same time, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Do you think we'll live it?"

"I don't know, actually," the Ravenclaw frowned. "I mean, I _think_ it was taken off after a particularly bad accident happened. I think a student was killed or something."

"Oh, bugger," Adelaide scoffed. "Anyway, Dumbledore wants us from tomorrow to go every night at 8 for these lessons."

"Alright, I'll be there."

"Good night, little sister!" Adelaide bid.

"Good night," she returned.

And as the gap of the door closed, Isolde let her body rest freely against the piece of furniture, rubbing her temples tiredly. She spent a few minutes asking herself what in the world was really happening between Dumbledore and the 'Golden Trio'. Were they really going back in time? How were they going to go back to the present? And why did they need her sister? Dumbledore couldn't be _that_ stupid to believe that her sister was a genius.

With a heavy sigh, she raised her body from the armcouch and began to walk back to her dormitory, finding Salazar perched on the stairs, watching her with his intense green eyes. Isolde scoffed at the cat and grabbed him, her fingers rubbing on the back of his black fur.

"You sure helped me a lot today, eh?" she chastised, earning a tired yawn from him, really contagious too. "Well, let's just hope that Adelaide was telling the truth."

A faint _meow_ was emitted from the feline's throat and she managed a smile for him.

* * *

**3rd of September, 1997**

_Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts_

8:00pm

Adelaide and Isolde walked inside the office, professor Dumbledore already there along with The Boy Who Lived, The Walking Encyclopaedia and The Weasel King. Her younger sister hid behind Adelaide's back, always shy as to new people. The blonde scoffed and grabbed her arm, placing her in front for everyone to see.

"Everyone, this is my dear _little_ sister, Isolde," she introduced.

"Hello, Isolde," Hermione greeted with a friendly smile.

"Hi, Hermione," she nodded with a slight trace of stutter.

"Wait, you two knew each other?" Adelaide's grasp on her sister's arm grew tighter and Hermione visibly noticed the small wince she gave out, narrowing her eyes at Adelaide.

"Yes, from yesterday," the fuzzy haired girl defended, standing up to grab the hand of the poor girl, now free of her sister's grip. "Come on, the lesson's about to start."

"What are exactly these lessons?" Adelaide sat on the chair Hermione had left free.

"Are you okay?" said witch whispered over to her new friend.

"Uh… yes," Isolde frowned in wonder, responding in the same tone. "I am."

"Well, Ms. Ravensdale," Dumbledore began. "We'll begin with the word _pensieve_. Do you know what it is?"

"Of course I d—!"

"A pensieve an object used to review memories in a third person point of view for personal matters," Isolde answered before her sister could get caught.

"Good, Ms. Ravensdale," the elder smiled at her, patting the back of her shoulder. "Ten points to Ravenclaw."

A blush covered her cheeks as she realised that everyone in the room was looking at her, one of them being her sister with a furious glance. Pushing the glasses further up her nose, Isolde tried to ignore the knives travelling from her sister's hazel orbs to her back.

"So we're going to be seeing someone's memories?" the redhaired boy crossed his arms and squinted his eyes in curiosity. "Who's? Voldemort's?"

There was a squeak in the room and they all turned to the blonde, who had emitted the sound. She was pale white and in her ashen features they could see the fear.

"D-Don't speak his name!" she stuttered.

"It's just a name," Hermione crossed her arms just like the Weasley.

"I never understood why everyone was so scared of a name," Potter frowned.

"Moving on!" Dumbledore quickly interjected, already regretting that he had summoned so many people in his office, knowing that they were all easily distracted—ah, the youth. "This will be one of the most important memories."

"Oh," Adelaide let out.

"Where are we going, sir?" Potter asked, moving to Dumbledore's side as the pensieve turned present in the room.

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane... he died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties," grabbing his arm, he offered the Boy Who Lived to go first. "If you will stand, Harry…"

Looking down at the water filled pensieve, Harry took a deep breath and ventured his face into the liquid. With a move of his wand, the pensieve enlarged and the other three students joined in, leaving Isolde as the last one to go.

"Now, Ms. Ravensdale," Dumbledore caught her attention. "Please, be reminded that this is only a memory."

With that, he pushed her head in and she disappeared into the light shadows of Albus Dumbledore's memories.


End file.
